Bones of the Dragon (37 page)

“Owl Mother!” Skylan repeated, astonished. “I know her.”

“The old woman’s still alive?” Raegar asked in wonder.

“She is,” said Skylan. “She healed my wounds when I was attacked by a boar.”

“And you let her touch you?” Raegar was horrified.

“I didn’t have much choice,” Skylan said. “The ogres had invaded our village, demanding hostages and cattle and silver. I was War Chief. I had to lead the men in battle. And I could barely stand, let alone walk.”

“The Torgun Bone Priestess—”

“—refused to heal me. She hates me,” said Skylan, shrugging. “Though that was not the reason she wouldn’t heal me. As it turned out—”

He stopped. He had been going to tell his cousin about the death of the Goddess of Healing, but he was afraid that the dire news might get back to the Southlanders, who worshipped their own gods. Perhaps evil gods, like the Gods of Raj.

“Tell me about Draya. What did she do to you?”

“She accused me of loving someone else, a charge I denied. She didn’t believe me. One night when I was alone in my dwelling, I drank some mead with my meal, as was my usual custom. I noticed the mead had a strange taste, but I thought nothing of it. And then my head began to swim. My vision blurred. I tried to stand, but my legs would not work. The next thing I knew, I woke to find myself lying in my bed. I had been stripped naked. Draya was beside me. She was naked, too. She was drawing runes on my bare breast in blood, and singing strange words.

“She was startled to see me wake up. The potion she fed me wore off too quickly, I guess. She tried to make love to me, but I ordered her to dress herself, and then I threw her out of my dwelling. I should have publicly proclaimed her a witch, but she begged and pleaded with me to spare her.”

Raegar sighed deeply. “I said I would, if she would swear to cease practicing
her foul magic. She promised she would. Obviously she lied. Horg was her next victim.”

“What do you mean by that?” Skylan asked, alarmed. He thought Raegar was referring to the poisoning.

“Only that Draya wanted to be the ruler of the Vindrasi,” said Raegar. “When Horg refused to give in to her demands, she used her spells to steal his manhood. Rumor has it that after he lay with her, Horg never fathered a child. Not with Draya or with any woman.”

Skylan sat staring gloomily into the fire. It all made perfect sense.

Raegar eyed him. “I fear my warning comes too late. Has she cast a spell on you?”

“Not on me,” said Skylan, shaken.

“I have upset you. I am sorry,” Raegar said. “I should have kept my mouth shut. Here, this will settle your nerves.”

He poured more wine. Skylan stared into the red liquid, then downed it at a gulp.

Images swam in his head: the raven with its black eyes and Draya pulling off her gown and Horg doubled over, clutching his gut . . .

Skylan groaned and let his swimming head sink into his hands. His cousin put his arm around his shoulders.

“One of the female slaves knows something of love charms,” said Raegar softly. “Tell me what Draya did to you, and perhaps she can remove the charm—”

“She didn’t do anything to me,” Skylan said.

Raegar frowned. “Perhaps she did and you didn’t know it. If you lay with her—”

“I didn’t!” Skylan cried vehemently. “Something warned me against her. I left her bed.”

“On her wedding night? Draya must have been furious. You are lucky you are still alive!” Raegar said.

“You do not know
how
lucky!” Skylan said in a shuddering whisper. “She poisoned Horg!”

Raegar drew in a hissing breath; then he cast a swift glance around the camp. “Keep your voice down, Skylan!”

Skylan picked up his cup to take another drink, only to find it was empty.

“You fill me with horror, Cousin,” Raegar added, pouring more wine. “I won’t press you, but if you want to talk about it, I swear by Torval’s beard that anything you say to me I will hold in strictest confidence.”

Skylan wanted to talk. He had to talk. He told his cousin everything. Like
lancing a boil, the ugly pus flowed out. He talked about the battle with Horg, Draya’s confession, his own horror and his determination to travel to Hammerfall and beg Torval’s forgiveness. He talked about the raven who had blocked his path.

“And now I don’t know what to do,” Skylan said miserably. “If I accuse Draya, I accuse myself. I could be sent into exile or even hanged! Torval has cursed me!”

“You must do something to seek his forgiveness,” said Raegar.

“I could bring back the Vektan Torque,” said Skylan. “That is what I believe he wants me to do. But Draya insists that I must waste time sailing to the Dragon Isles.”

“You dare not oppose her,” said Raegar. “She might do something terrible to you.”

Skylan shuddered at the thought.

“I have an idea,” Raegar said after a moment. “But I want to sleep on it. We will speak of this again in the morning. You should go to your rest now, my cousin. The girl will take you to where she has prepared your bed.”

The pretty girl came gliding out of the shadows. She smiled at him.

Skylan lurched to his feet and nearly fell headlong into the fire. Raegar, laughing, caught hold of him. Skylan was not so drunk that he forgot the precious sword. He grabbed it, held it fast. The girl put her arms around Skylan and led him some distance down the beach and into the tall grass. Here, far from the others, she had spread out a blanket.

Skylan stripped off his shirt and pants, then threw himself onto the blanket. The girl started to lie down beside him. Skylan was about to tell her to leave, and then he remembered that Draya had stolen Horg’s manhood. Perhaps she had done the same to him and, as Raegar had said, Skylan did not know it.

He pulled the giggling girl close to him. She kissed his bare chest. Their arms and legs entwined. He fondled her breasts as she pressed against him. Closing his eyes, he pretended she was Aylaen. He groaned with pleasure, then collapsed on top of the girl.

Skylan fell into a drunken stupor so deep that he did not move. The girl had to wriggle out from underneath him.

S
kylan remained in his bed till late the next morning. Even through closed eyelids, he felt the sunlight piercing his brain with the force of a thrown spear, and he was loath to rise. Unlike some who imbibed too much, he had a relatively clear memory of everything he’d said and done the night before. He was vaguely disappointed to find the girl had gone, but he supposed she had chores to do.

His brain throbbed, seemed about to crack his skull. Aside from that, he felt better than he had in many days. He was glad he had unburdened himself. His only concern was that Raegar would tell what he knew, and that concern was small, almost nonexistent. Raegar was Skylan’s cousin. He had sworn by Torval to keep Skylan’s secret, and he had brought Skylan a valuable gift. Skylan fumbled about the blankets until he found his sword. Placing his hand reassuringly on the hilt, he shut his eyes against the sun and lay in his bed until the smell of food and the pressing need to relieve himself roused him.

Skylan went for a swim to clear his head, then put on the clean clothes the girl had washed for him. He walked across the beach to where the slave women were roasting fish. The pretty girl served him.

He did not see Raegar, and he asked the girl where he was, for he was eager to hear his cousin’s plan. He spoke his words slowly and loudly, repeating Raegar’s name, so that she would understand him. The girl stared at him blankly, and finally Skylan gave up and ate his meal.

At last Raegar appeared, yawning and scratching himself, from a tent some distance down the beach. Like Skylan, Raegar went for a swim and then came over to sit by the fire, shaking the water from his hair and beard like a dog.

Skylan squatted by the fire and helped himself to fish and bread. His stomach was ready to rebel at the smell of food, but Skylan would need his strength, for he had a long ride ahead of him, and he forced himself to eat.

“I see one of the boats is gone,” Skylan noted. “Along with two of your partners.”

“There is a fishing village not far from here. They went to peddle our wares. I have to join them there, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

Raegar regarded Skylan in wry concern. “You drank a lot of wine, Cousin. Do you remember what we spoke about last night? The trouble you are in?”

“There is not wine enough in the world to drown my trouble,” said Skylan harshly. “I only wish there were.”

Raegar sighed deeply; then, slapping his knees, he rose to his feet. “If you are finished eating, come with me.”

The two strolled along the beach. Above them, seabirds wheeled over the waves. On the shore, two gulls screamed at each other, fighting over a dead fish.

“I lay awake a long time last night, Cousin, thinking about your problem. First,” said Raegar, “you are in grave danger. You know Draya’s secret. You are lucky in one regard, however. She is in love with you, and so long as she believes there is a chance you will love her—”

Skylan gave a snort. “Never!”

“Hear me out, Cousin,” said Raegar. “So long as Draya thinks she has a chance to win you, she will not harm you. If she comes to believe that you hate her . . .” Raegar shrugged. “There is no telling what she might do to you. She has killed one husband already.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Skylan said bitterly. “But what can I do?”

“First, you must seek Torval’s forgiveness,” said Raegar. “Not for the murder of Horg. Draya did that. Torval knows you are innocent. But you broke your oath to your father, and that is a serious thing. A warrior’s honor is the banner that flies above his head to which all men are witness.”

“I know,” said Skylan. “I am sorry for that. Yet it was Torval who put the idea into my head! How can the god punish me for doing his bidding?”

“Who can understand the mind of a god?” Raegar said. “Who would want to! Take me, for instance. I begged Torval to let me die, and I cursed him when he let me be sold into slavery. Yet, the god knew what he was about. Torval kept me alive and brought me here for a reason—to bring us together. He wanted me to be able to offer you my help.”

Raegar drew near, said emphatically, “Rest assured, Skylan, Torval wants you to be Chief of Chiefs! He wants you to recover the Vektan Torque, take it from the ogres. He is testing you, judging your resolve. When you have the torque, you must take it to Hammerfall, offer it to Torval, and ask his forgiveness. He will not only grant it, he will reward you handsomely! Of that I am certain.”

“I would do all that!” Skylan said fervently. “I would sail tomorrow if I could. But I told you last night, Draya forbids it. She will make me go on this honeymoon journey of hers to the Dragon Isles.”

“I have a solution to all your problems. First, tell me what you know of the Vektan Torque. Why is it so valuable?”

Skylan thought back. “I don’t know much about the torque,” he admitted.
“It is a mystery kept by the Kai. It is ancient, I know that. And it is said that the spiritbone belongs to one of the Five Vektia dragons, a dragon so powerful that both men and gods are prohibited from summoning it unless Vindrash herself commands.”

“So what would happen if the ogres tried to summon this dragon?” Raegar asked.

“They can’t,” Skylan pointed out. “They have no Bone Priestesses.”

“That is true. But say they did,” Raegar argued. “Say they captured a Bone Priestess. What then? Could they force her to summon the dragon?”

“If she did, I assume the first thing she would do would be to order the dragon to slay the ogres,” Skylan said with a smile.

Raegar stared at him a moment, then roared out a booming laugh. “Hah! Hah! Of course she would. I had not thought of that.” He slapped Skylan on the back. “Such wisdom is why Torval made you Chief of Chiefs. Still, the ogres might find a way to persuade the Bone Priestess to work for them.”

“Bah! They are ogres,” said Skylan scornfully. “They couldn’t persuade a cat to drink milk. But what does all this matter, Cousin?” he added impatiently. “Tell me your plan.”

“Very well,” said Raegar. “My plan is this: You and Draya go on your honeymoon—No, wait! Hear me out! You sail the
Venjekar
to the Dragon Isles. On the way, there is a large settlement of humans who live on an island known as the Isle of Apensia. The settlement is very rich. I was there not long ago. They have herds of fat cattle, hoards of silver and jewels. On your way to the Dragon Isles, you stop to raid this settlement—”

“Wait a moment,” Skylan interrupted. “I have heard of the Isle of Apensia. All men avoid it. The isle is ruled by druids who guard it with powerful magicks.”

Raegar laughed loudly. “So the druids would have you believe! Who do you think spread the tales of this fearsome magic? I myself have traded there. I have met these fearsome druids. They are nothing but a bunch of old gray-beards who do not carry weapons. They do not permit their people to carry weapons. They have no warriors, no defenses. What they do have is hoards of silver and gold and jewels.”

Skylan was skeptical. “If that is true, how have they survived all these years without being raided?”

“By spreading false tales about their vaunted magical powers,” explained Raegar. “Lies, all lies, I assure you, Cousin. All you have to do is tell your warriors about the rich treasure they will acquire, and Draya will be powerless to stop your men from going to Apensia.”

“What you say may be true,” said Skylan. “But I must still travel to the Dragon Isles—”

“Not if something happens to Draya on Apensia,” said Raegar.

Skylan glanced sharply at his cousin. “What do you mean?”

Raegar shrugged. “Let us suppose that during the raid, Draya vanishes and cannot be found. You would have no Bone Priestess to summon the dragon. You would have to sail back to Vindraholm and once there—”

“—the Kai would have to choose a new Kai Priestess—”

“—which could be the lovely Aylaen,” inserted Raegar slyly. Skylan had told Raegar about her last night, as well. He didn’t like hearing his cousin speak of her in that familiar tone, however.